


Unwanted Help

by The-Winter-Maximoff (kindersuprisefics)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Suicide mention, Wow third fic this weekend I'm on a roll, also I guess I should tag, cause like trigger warnings, they're really supposed to hate eachother right now but I haven't really fully conveyed that well, this wasn't meant to be so angsty but I can't help it with these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7026529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindersuprisefics/pseuds/The-Winter-Maximoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T'challa wants to help Zemo, but it's not as easy as he hoped. Zemo doesn't want help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwanted Help

**Author's Note:**

> This is....wow, three fics in a row. Probably 4 soon. Anyone got some requests? I don't mind writing in between different timelines. I just can't stop writing Z'challa.

This was not a life he could see himself getting used to. In fact he was already contemplating on ways to kill himself here. 

The moment T’challa had left, Zemo began to silently panic. He was left sitting on the bed, he hastily looked back and forth, trying to find something he could use to escape, in anyway he possibly could. 

He stands up, unsteady from the cuffs around his ankles, he examines the room thoroughly. The walls were padded with a thick, soft material. The bed was a solid, memory foam like substance on the top, with a firm, sturdy material on the bottom. Probably to keep him from hiding underneath it. 

Zemo sighs, even his hands were cuffed to close together, meaning he couldn't even attempt to choke himself. He falls back on the bed, leaning his back against the wall.

‘I'm going to loose my mind here.’

 

 

It feels as if he were in there for years when he finally hears the door open again. A tall young women walks in, Zemo barely has a second to react before she gracefully pulls him up and takes the cuffs from his ankles off. 

“Is he sending me back already?” He asks her sarcastically. 

She doesn't even glance at him as she leads him out of the room with her.   
“King T’challa has requested your presence.” She answers simply and quickly. 

He doesn't really know where they were going, she take him down a different way then the one he was brought here in. Eventually they end up in a small, yet considerably large dining room. There was a nice table with two places set across from each other. And near it was a couch, where the king himself was sitting in wait for Zemo.

“Forgive me for not bringing you up here earlier, but I had many things to attend to before I could speak with you more.” 

T’challa stands and walks over to where they are, he nods to her with a thank you and she nods back and leaves the room. Now they were alone, and Zemo was for some reason nervous. 

“Come, let us sit.” T’challa puts a hand on Zemo’s shoulder, causing the other man to jump involuntarily, noting it with an unreadable look. 

They sit on the couch, far from each other due to Zemo moving himself all the way to the edge. He refuses to look at T’challa, deciding to be stubborn by staring at the floor with a scornful look in his eyes. He didn't feel the need to hide that he absolutely didn't want to be here. 

“Is your room comfortable? I had them make sure-“ 

“That I wouldn't be able to kill myself in there?” Zemo cuts him off with sharp words, “yes thank you for that.” 

T’challa remains calm, he wouldn't let this unnecessary bitterness get to him. 

“You dying would defeat the purpose of your being here.” 

They briefly share a glance, and it's obvious from the look in his eyes that Zemo was full of questions. 

“The day is still early, so I thought it would be best for you to start your rehabilitation immediately.” 

“Do you really think you're just going to magically help me? Make all of my problems just disappear?” 

Zemo glares at him, mostly angry at how calm and peaceful T’challa acted, as if there wasn't anything wrong with this situation. 

T’challa shakes his head, “No. The pain of loosing someone will never truly go away,” there's a hint of sadness in his own eyes, “but if you find the means to heal, and move on, the pain will no longer have a hold on you.” 

Zemo looks at him uncertainly, he doesn't understand this man at all. His kindness felt wrong and undeserved. He didn't want this. 

“Are you sure this is for me then? Or are you doing this for your own benefit?” He asks him, voice low and cold. 

T’challa doesn't deny that this is partially for himself, feeling as though this could be helpful to his own mourning process as well. 

“This is for both of us.” 

“So what we’re going to sit here like this every day and talk about our fucking feelings?” Zemo asks skeptically, “do you really think that's going to help at all?” 

“What drives your anger?” 

Zemo's fists clench tighter. If looks could kill the one he gave T’challa would have slaughtered the man before him. 

“Maybe the fact that you're keeping me here against my will, that you took the only chance I had at ending my suffering away from me.” He feels that tightness in his chest again, it disgusts him, “I'm sick of hearing your pity. Just let me die.”

“Do you believe in an afterlife?” 

“What kind of question is that?” 

“My father did.” 

“That doesn't change the fact that he's dead.” 

There's a flash of hurt in T’challa’s eyes, and Zemo’s half expecting to feel satisfaction for igniting some kind of pain in his captor. But there's nothing, he feels empty, it felt almost pointless to try anymore. 

“I know, there's nothing any of us can do once people can die, but I can't help but wonder….if he was right.” 

Zemo doesn't say anything. 

“Is that why you want to die? Do you believe you'll be reunited with them?” 

Zemo just stares at him, T’challa is almost captivated by those deep brown eyes. 

Zemo hadn't the slightest idea of what happened after death. He was once a man who believed in God and heaven but after he lost everything he didn't know what to believe in anymore. Nothing mattered once they were gone. His faith and hope died with his family. 

Zemo looks at T’challa with an emotional look, keeping himself from smirking once T’challa bought it and looked at him expectantly, concerned. 

“No, that's not the reason I want to die.” 

“Then why?” T’challa asks, confused. 

“So I never have to see your face again.” 

T’challa only blinks at him, probably realizing he walked into that. 

“That's not a really good reason to die for.” He says, surprising Zemo with the amusement in his voice. 

T’challa smiles as he remembers something he couldn't resist calling Zemo out on.   
“Besides I thought I was beautiful.” 

The looks on Zemo's face makes that worth it, even though he was pretty sure he’d be paying for that eventually. 

Zemo was completely flustered, completely caught off guard by T’challa bringing that up, the embarrassment from that moment instantly comes back to him. 

“I said dutiful.” He corrects him a little too fast, avoiding eye contact with the smiling man. 

“I'm flattered, really.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Okay, I'm sorry that was a little mean.” 

“I said you misheard me.” 

As much as T’challa enjoyed the little pout on the Sokovian’s face, he knew upsetting them would get them anywhere. 

Zemo silently scolded himself for ever making such a foolish mistake. He wasn't even sure why he even said beautiful in the first place. Until he looks up at T’challa again, that stupid, wonderful smile on his stupid, handsome face. His face feels hot, and he has to look away. 

T’challa caught this, and for the first time, he really looks at Zemo. His eyes look over every attractive feature, from his disheveled brown hair, to the frustrated look on his face. 

“I'm sorry about your family.” 

Zemo shuts his eyes, wishing he could block that soothing voice out. He hated feeling so many emotions at once. Especially ones he didn't understand. 

“Please stop being nice to me.”

“How do you want me to act?”

“You should hate me, you should be yelling at me and beating me. Not smiling at me like that.” 

Zemo swallows down the lump in his throat, clenching his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut to keep the emotions held inside. Something that's even harder to do as he feels a strong yet gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Hating you, or hurting you would not make me feel better. If anything the anger would only grow and destroy my life.” 

Zemo looks at him from the corner of his eye. He wouldn't admit it but he was slightly impressed with how strong T’challa was. He is the man Zemo will never live to be. 

“Helping you is the only way I can help myself.” 

“You can't.” 

“You're right, I can't help you unless you tell me how.” 

“Can you build a time machine?” 

“No.” 

“Then you can not help me.” 

“Holding on to your past will not help you heal. You need to let go.” 

Zemo’s head snaps in his direction, the look on his face was furious and T’challa’s eyes widen upon seeing tears welled in his eyes. 

“How can you ask me to just forget about them?! To just toss them aside and continue living like I never knew them?!” 

“That’s not what I-“ 

“They were all I ever had! I promised to protect them and I failed! Now they're gone and I'm alone and it's all those fucking avengers fault!” 

Next thing he knows he feels something warm and wet on his cheeks and he's shaking. He's just so frustrated and tired everything hurts so much.   
Zemo pulls his knees up to his chest and hides his face. He doesn't even fight back or move away from the hand that rubs his back soothingly. 

They stay like that for hours. Zemo lets his frustrated tears fall while T’challa sit beside him shedding his own silent tears. 

They were sad and there was no point in hiding it any more. 

Zemo missed his family, and T’challa missed his father. 

The people they loved for all of their lives were gone, they would never see them again. This was the only thing they could really do right now. 

 

After hours of this, T’challa realizes how late it is. Neither of them have eaten and soon they would need to sleep.   
He wipes his eyes, taking a deep breath and composing himself. Zemo is still curled up silently on the couch. He had stopped shaking several minutes ago.   
He shakes him slightly, trying to get his attention.   
“You need to eat something before I send you back to your room.”

Zemo doesn't look at him. He's probably ignoring him again. 

“You need to keep up your strength.”

“For what?”

“For living.” 

 

For the first time, Zemo was far too tired to fight. His emotions were spent and now he was numb. He wasn't sad or angry right now, and he was starving. Something he hadn't noticed until T’challa brought it up. 

So they sit at the table, where food had been waiting for them. It wasn't hot anymore but it wasn't cold either.   
The flavor was new to him and surprisingly he found everything delicious. Not that he was going to tell anyone that. In fact he and T’challa ate in absolute silence. Not even eye contact was made. 

And when they were done eating T’challa escorts him back to the room. 

They share a quick look, unable to hold it for more than a few seconds. 

“Not going to chain me to the bed?” Zemo asks with a skeptic look, back to his normal, bitter self. 

“I trust you're safe enough in here.” 

T’challa turns to leave, but he looks back on last time, “I will see you again tomorrow.” 

“Of course you will. I'm your prisoner now aren't I?” 

Then the door locks, and T’challa is gone. Zemo sits back on the bed and stares into the darkness of the room. 

He was never getting out of there. 

 

In another place away from Zemo, T’challa sits on his bed with his head in his hands. 

It's so hard to forgive Helmut Zemo. He's so angry and hateful, and it was more than obvious that he didn't want T’challa’s help at all.   
If anything his presence only unnerved the king. He made him see how easy it could be to let his pain destroy him. T’challa didn't want to end up that broken. 

That was why he couldn't give up on this man. He was determined to help him. 

To forgive him.


End file.
